Shadow's Bane

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Foe Calibur

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Posts: 2

(8/8/01 11:46:31 pm)

Reply Shadow's Bane

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Shadow’s Bane

 

Somewhere, buried deep in my subconscious lay the truth to my past, the reason I was different from the others. My tribe embraced me; my family loved me, yet somehow I didn’t fit in. Kendra, my Caretaker, claimed ignorance on the subject and dismissed it at the soonest possible opening. I sometimes questioned whether or not I was part of the tribe… not to seam ungrateful; the people there treated me well… it was something inside of me, something I couldn’t identify.

 

When I was a child, my playmates seemed hesitant to embrace me. As I grew through adolescence I was stared at, merely because of my darkened complexion. For ages hence I had learned to keep to myself, only to abide in those I trusted. A short list though it was. For many years after, my life consisted of training with my tutor, Gowain, and practicing various techniques in the forests surrounding the village. Little did I know how drastically my life was about to change.

 

On the day of my three hundredth birthday, a large band of marauding Ogres slaughtered the village and pillaged our homes. They killed mercilessly. Nothing in our power could stop these… beasts. I stood in fear, at the sight of my home burning, listening to the screams, and heeding their calls for help, yet unable to grant them their wish. For hours I stood paralyzed by what lay before me. I had been trained, and trained well. But nothing could have prepared me for this. I was spared because of their fear… their fear of me.

 

When alas the Ogres left I sat for hours at Kendra’s side, thinking, watching the life drain from her, my tears dropping softly on her blood soaked tunic. There were so many questions I had yet to ask… so many questions I would never get answers to. I grew angry, the sight of the body, of Kendra… it disgusted me. Why would she do this? Why would she leave me? I hated her for it; she left with so many questions unanswered, so many things left to experience. I knew, though, that life must go on. Things do not stop because of death, they are merely delayed… the delay was over and I had many gruesome tasks ahead of me.

 

The body of Gowain lay by the roadside twisted and torn. He had been long dead; the body was nearly black with flies and crawling with maggots. Through all of the hardships, through all of my pain, this was the most agonizing. Why couldn’t they have killed me? What were they afraid of? The question ran over and over in my mind. Then I remembered the task ahead... The bodies had to be tended to. The more I worked, the deeper the questions burned… why? I began to wish that I had been killed also, after all, everything I had to live for had just been destroyed.

 

Hours later I stood by the burning bodies of my friends and family. The sickening smell of burning flesh and the sound of sizzling tissue engulfed me. I could not bear to hear them burn… let alone see and smell their corpses melting. I left. I walked North into the forest, no destination in mind; I just had to leave. I had convinced myself that I would not… could not stop until I had rid myself of the horrible sounds... of the stenches that overwhelmed me. In my mind I could hear them… pleading as they were put to their gruesome death

I walked for days oblivious to the outside world, unscathed by famine. My mind was in turmoil. What now? Where do I go? How will I live? And through all these questions lay the thought of what had happened, of the horror I had witnessed.

 

Years passed in that wood, I had no reason to leave… I had nowhere to go, if these ogres were so scared they could not kill me, even after they destroyed my home and loved ones… what would other people think? I trained in the art of shadow magic, something I had been practicing in private. It was more of a skill than magic... it came from within. I honed my skills, learned to control the damnable power that set me apart from the others. After years of contemplation I had come to rest over the subject of my differentness. It was the way I thought, the way I felt, the way I moved… the way I am.

 

That aside, my mind was open to do as I pleased, to hone my skills, to train. I trained in both the conscious and unconscious world. Always making new challenges, always adding new techniques. Creating new weapons became a good way to pass the time. Though my supplies were limited, my mind was not. I created a sort of crossbow. It fit on your fore arm, like a gauntlet, and folded back for easy storage and concealment under a cloak. Though I had no swords, I was still able to train with the aid of staves. These staves I created were made heavier than the average sword. They were made as such, so that the transition between stave and sword would be much easier. Seeing as how the stave is heavier, the sword would be light and easy to wield.

 

As the days turned to months and the months turned to years, I became more content with my own company and less concerned with the outside world. Sometimes as I slept at night in this hovel I had created, I found myself dreaming of that god-forsaken day. The carnage still reigning high upon my omnipresent thoughts. I would awake in a cold sweat, startled greatly. It took quite a while to calm the terror I experienced night after night.

As the years turned into decades, it became apparent to me that I must venture outside this hole in reality. I must unearth myself to meet new people, meet new challenges. There is only so much I could handle and after eighty-four years in the woods, alone. The problem of keeping my sanity became too heavy to bear.

 

I set off in search for people, none in particular, just company. Something to pass the time, someone to talk to. Perhaps even an opponent to fight with. Being alone in the woods, that was one thing that I lacked… a sparring partner. Or an enemy if you will. More than anything I longed a new challenge, a destiny, something to strive for. Though I had convinced myself that I could live without companionship, the one thing I needed was just that. But I was afraid of what might happen. Every time I though of this the horrid memories of my last celebrated birthday spring forth and destroy the need. I didn’t want to… I couldn’t go through that again. Losing your loved ones, losing your home… losing your life. No! It would not happen again. I would make sure of that.

 

Though long, my journey to civilization was somewhat less interesting than I had hoped for. Though companionship was what I needed, a good fight is what I longed. These I found in the plenty. As I walked men would come out to great me; this I found was not always a good thing, for of the twenty that greeted me all but one were trying to kill me. And even at that, the one who wasn’t trying to kill me was closely followed by more traveling mercenaries. Fortunately for me, they were inexperienced and fell by my staves. By the end of the first week, I had acquired quite a nice selection of swords, only two of which I kept with me.

 

The blades I kept were extremely well made (considering where they came from) the unfortunate soul that wielded these before me must have had quite a bit of money. Though I had two swords, one of the first things I wished to do once entering civilization was re-equip myself. To rid me of the weapons and armor I had acquired, and to start anew.

 

* *

 

Alas I peaked a hill near the roadside, to look out over the valley below. The sun shone brightly on the horizon. I looked into the seemingly cloudless sky, in the broad open sky lay a faint trail of campfire smoke. I peered down into the valley frantically trying to find the source of this long lost commodity. I looked bellow to a clearing, the most obvious place for a campfire, and there it lay, surrounded by mercenaries of all types. I had no idea who these people were, but by then my longing for companionship was overwhelming.

 

I moved quietly down the opposite hillside as not to attract any attention. Even if these people were friendly, I mustn't let them have the upper hand. After all, there must have been a score of them and only one of me. As I entered the clearing it became clear to me that these people were not friends.

 

Upon my entering a few of them drew their swords and turned to face me. I was reluctant but alas I was left with no choice... I attempted to confer with them but to no avail. I drew my arm bow (the small crossbow on my forearm) to meet their approach. Of the thirteen that stood before only seven were standing erect when they reached me. By this time they were running flat-out, I had only enough time to draw my sword before I was attacked.

Swing after swing, slash after slash I dodged and deflected. It became apparent to me that I could not just defend; I had to fight. I willed the shadow powers within me to come forth and aid me in battle. My blade burned with a shadowy flame... not hot, not cold, just there. When it was an opportune time I let my guard down and took the offence. The blades of my unwieldy opponents passed through me like air. The shadow powers made me impossible to hit. As the foe’s blade to my right passed through my mid section, I drew my sword down fast and hard. As the blade hit, a flash of shadow streamed forth, from my blade. His torso was cleaved in two, from the shoulders through to his abdomen. The odd black flame cauterized the wounds. As he lay dead on the blood soaked earth; the other bandits realized what they had just witnessed. I realozed what I had just done.

 

“I...It...It can’t be!”

 

“No! It cant... ugh.”

 

“My god!” The expressions were few, but clearly stated their disbelief.

 

“Now you see, I am not here to kill... merely to befriend. If you had not attacked this would not have happened.” I tried not to sound harsh, but at the same time it was hard not to finish off the rest of my attackers. Their numbers were now few, few enough for me to take them easily.

 

“We... I... I had no idea one man could be so powerful! Please forgive us... what’s left of us.” By now it was clear the remainder just wanted to live. I decided it best to limit the carnage.

 

“Alas, I do not wish to fight any longer. Please, take these satchels and heal your wounded. And head my words... If you come across one like myself, don’t fight. It would be your last.

 

I tossed a couple of my satchels of herbs to the bandits and left the clearing, I did not wish to kill in the first place, and now that I had, I had to at least try to remedy it. Through the fight, I felt something inside me grow. Something strange and dark, for when I called upon the shadow power, I was almost unable to harness it. It grew as I fought; now I sat hunched in the bushes, just out of the clearing, struggling to restrain it. I knew I had to harness it, at least to the point of absolute control. Today was a mistake; killing was not intended. This could not happen again.

 

The shadow was a strong power, known to overcome its unsuspecting wielders. I was not one of those people; I had harnessed the power... but did not expect it to grow so rapidly. The shadow is never totally dormant, it will protect you with its evade techniques all of the time, but is only put into true action when it is willed to do so. It was as if it had a mind of its own, bent on the glee of battle. It had been strengthened not because of its use, it had been used many times before, but because of the magnitude of the battle, the power I exerted... the power I drained from my attackers.

 

Finally with the shadow power at a dormant (so to speak) state, I moved on, in search of more manageable companionship. Once again my journey took me ever farther from my destroyed home… to think that through all of these years, through good and bad alike, the memory was still prominent in my mind. Even over the recent happenings… in fact the recent events only triggered my need for companionship, and the memory of that which I lost.

 

* *

 

As days turned to weeks my longing became almost unbearable. My search so far had proven fruitless. If I didn’t find friends soon… I knew these thoughts would be the last I was going to comprehend. It was night, the moon rode high on the velvet horizon, it was all I could do to keep my sanity. The strain was becoming unwieldy and heavy on my mind, so much so that the sound of my own thoughts was deafening me. Alas my vision blurred…

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Foe Calibur

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Posts: 3

(8/8/01 11:47:40 pm)

Reply Re: Shadow's Bane

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The blood, and carnage of the previous battle looped relentlessly in my unconscious mind. The screams of the men I had killed and the slipping grasp on what sanity I had contained weaved vigorously in and out of the horrid memories of my past; and the bodies scattered carelessly across the burning fields… flooding my thoughts with incomprehensible images of terror and pain.

 

I stood in the meadow, blood soaked and shaking. I looked about me only to see the ghostly images of my dead kin floating, wounds gaping on their terrorized bodies. The looks of astonishment and pain etched forever in their faces. My thoughts raced, my blood boiled, so much fury and hurt I had never felt. Falling to my knees I gripped my skull in hand and squeezed my eyes shut; the rush of emotions had grown so much that it literally hurt to bear it. Sitting on that dreadful grass, I struggled to gain control. To control my thought and to settle my emotions…

 

At last I won the strength to open my tear filled eyes and there before me lay the very epitome of my pain. Before my blood and tear ridden body lay the gasping figure of the only parent I knew. The thoughts and passion of that dreaded day flooded my mind as I reached for the ghostly figure. My fingers gingerly touched the cheek that, to my astonishment, was cold as ice and hard as stone. I moved to hold Kendra in my shaking arms, ignoring the icy embrace. The longer I held, the colder I became, until at last the very lack of heat became more than I could bear. Gently I set my loved one back on the ground. As I did, her image faded into the earth’s selfish core.

 

My head raised to examine the other ghostly figures, I saw the clouds darken. They began swirling viciously overhead as the suspended animations of my lost kin took an ungodly life, a life of pain and torment. The agonizing shrieks of my once-living comrades took reign over my senses. Their images swirled as the clouds unbound vigor raged on, creating a whirlwind of undead screams. Their wails of terror and agony increasing, I turned my head up in kindred spirit…

 

“Ahhhhh!” A cold sweat dripped from my bare skin as I sat bolt upright. This… dream, this horrible dream… had it been real? I felt my sweat laden body for the bruises I must have endured earlier in the dream, and found none. Letting myself relax, the panic slowly drained as I surveyed my surroundings; to the right of the bed I now lay in was a strangely familiar nightstand, on it sat a small candle and a match with which to light the tiny torch. At the foot of the bed, only a short distance from the base board, was the tightly closed door which, if memory served well, would lead to the main hall of my home. The remainder of the room was quite in the same fashion, small and orderly.

 

A dresser stood by the wall to my far left and displayed quite an array of clothing at my disposal. One such pair was the clothing I had fought in; folded neatly on top of the hutch it bore no signs of the previous battles. My thoughts swirled vigorously in my head. There was no way that all that had happened was a dream… my life, my reality. The emotions I felt were so real, my love for those that had adopted me, and my hatred for those that had slain them. How could this be? This room… it felt so familiar… yet the life I led before awakening seamed far more… real.

 

I removed myself from my prison of tangled sheets and stood dumbfounded in thought, staring at the clothing on the dresser.

 

“You’re awake.” The soft voice came from the no- longer closed door at my back.

 

“Yes… I…” I could not think of what to say, there was so much confusion, so much agony. I didn’t know whether I was dreaming or not. I couldn’t understand.

 

“What’s wrong Matthew?” Matthew… Was that my name? I hadn’t thought about it. When I was alone I had no need for a title. The small elderly woman who spoke earlier stepped further into the room.

 

“Who… who are you?”

 

“You don’t remember your own mother?”

 

“But, you’re dead…” I trailed off as my voice began to waver. Tears came to my eyes as I searched for words.

 

“Dead? I’m very much alive… that is, as far as I can tell.” My “mother” sat down on the abandoned bed. I stood at the dresser and continued to stare into the mirror, gazing at my unfamiliar reflection and wiping tears from my eyes. At this point, motherly humor was of little importance. Though it did help ease my grief.

 

“You… things are so unclear! This is all so familiar… but I can’t put a finger on any of it! I know there’s a hall out there,” I gestured exasperatedly towards the door, “but I can’t remember where it leads… I can’t even remember what this place is!” I was pacing frantically about the small room by this point. Saying it out loud only seamed to enhance my irritation.

 

“Now Matthew, calm down and maybe we can work this out…” She sounded sincere enough, but here eyes said otherwise. I know she was only going to play along.

 

“No… this can’t be helped by simple words, it is my memories that serve the confusion. The memories of my past… the past that I know! Not the one that I may have lived here…” My pacing was slowing as my thoughts cleared.

 

“What past is this?” The look in her eyes was almost mocking. This could not truly be my mother; no mother would mock her child in such a time of need.

 

“A past that you know nothing about.” My attitude changed as I noted the look in her eyes. I was no longer desperate, but angry, angry at the uncertainty in my “mother’s” disdain.

 

“You did take quite a bump to the head. That’s why you were asleep, you were unconscious.” I know this was not true. Earlier when I had felt for the bruises, I took special note of my head; there were none. There was very little I could do though, this room I stood in became more and more of a prison the more we spoke. The only choice that seamed reasonable, within such confusion, was to leave this growing “prison”. And so I decided to play her game until I had the opportunity to flee. The hesitation in my “mother’s” responses was growing, I knew she was swimming in lies, having to dive deeper and deeper to get the answers she did not have.

 

“Leave me be for a while… I need to get dressed.” I had stopped pacing by now and was standing in front of the dresser watching the elderly woman in the mirror; she nodded as she rose to her feet. As she left, her face displayed utter relief, but her composure showed concern. I know which of these was false.

 

 

* * *

 

The light the moon offered was more than enough to travel on, for once again I was on the road, my memories of the life I had lived slowly fading, like a dream oddly enough. Though pictures faded my feelings remained. These feelings were quite the cause for concern, for though they were not totally overwhelming they were omnipresent. These feelings transferred over into my gate, I was lost in the world and in my mind, it seamed. I had to run, I had to get away, so I tried. I ran for hours. I did not know where I was going nor were I was, I only knew of the dizzying thoughts and violent reminiscences weaving webs of uncertainty inside of my head. But no matter how long I ran, I couldn’t outrun the confusion.

 

Exhaustion was beginning to take its toll; a toll I had not the energy to pay. And so my confusion ended, on the step of an unknown building; the menacing silence of the unconscious world reigning high in my numbed mind.